SIX SENTENCE SUNDAY
Hi my lovelies <333 I am so sleepy but I have made so much progress on the upcoming chapter of rawnsyf <3 the end is in sight!! Allow me to introduce you all to a brand new character, you can call her Miss Cox if you’re nasty 😉
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Marcia opened her mouth, trying to think of a polite way to ask Jackie to give them some privacy, but Sugar didn’t give her the chance. “Jackie, it was great to talk with you, but I’ve got to run off for a bit, give my sister a call and make sure she’s doing okay. I’ll be back in a bit. Promise you’ll get me the information for that slam poetry reading you’re doing so I can be there?”
“Of course, I’d love to have you there. It’ll be a blast.” Sugar smiled at her before turning to Marcia momentarily, giving her a curt nod before brushing past her.
Marcia was still trying to process what had just happened when Jackie interrupted her runaway train of thought. “So, that was… something. Do you want to talk about it?”
Marcia blinked a few times, glancing across at the older girl. “Uh. No. Thank you. Slam poetry, huh? Isn’t that… you know… kind of dorky?”
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❛ i always resented these hands. their pale complexion, a far cry from any warrior's. ❜ [ from D, possibly in a moment of intimacy 🫡 ]
Laying on his side, lips pressing idly to Darian's shoulder, he stares at nothing, only listening as the other speaks. It is a low rumble of a voice, comforting like a song that almost lulls him to sleep. Yet what such a voice says makes for Vyke to shift some, to turn his head so that his one good eye is able to see. To look over and down at the hands being spoken to in such a way, demeaning almost, and he quickly finds fault in the words. For Vyke, those hands hold a spot within his mind, cherished and loved as much as the man himself.
❛ Hands do not make a warrior, ❜ Vyke says quietly into Darian's shoulder. He reaches out then, sliding his hand over, to take hold of Darian's own closest to him. Fingers thread over the top, the hold stops the near-constant shake, before he lifts Darian's hand and press a reverent kiss to the calloused palm.
How could he not? They were the first to reach out towards him, palm up and ready to pull him up from the snow. They let down the sword, loosened their tension, and forgave before the mouth did. Vyke sees them still, as a tether to this world, to keep him steady and rooted, to not think of anything else but that. They are a support. A strength. For what they can do and what they cannot do—no matter if it is deemed as a momentary lapse of weakness or not. There is merit yet. Not hidden, not without, but seen as they are no matter the day.
❛ You've shown yourself a better warrior than most, Darian. ❜ He tucks the hand he holds still against himself. ❛ Even with mistakes made. Especially with such mistakes. ❜
@luredeep !
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Daily Log
Trying out (probably just temporarily) making short daily-ish notes about things, in an attempt to see if it helps me be more reflective or productive lol.
Activities: Badly carved an eye into an avocado pit with a nail cuticle tool thing. trying to think of better designs to carve into avocado pits. I don't really have the right tools, maybe should order some carving tools. I hate buying things online eeeeee..
Worked on translating a poem into Avirrekava (my constructed language for one of my fantasy species) so I can paint it onto a tapestry sort of thing I'm making, kind of in the style of medieval illuminated manuscripts? I do not have paintbrushes small enough.
Spent a lot of time thinking more about the story with an investigator tracking a doctor who's doing strange experiments and they eventually become friends(ish) after trying to kill each other a few times, lol (set in my fantasy world though, so magic is involved, etc. It's just interesting to think about testing the limitations of magic and what type of experimentation people would do, especially if you own a hospital or morgue or other scenario where you have access to bodies, or good cover for hiding them, etc. Plus worldbuilding religions in the world, what their ideas of morality would be, what an "investigator" or police force would even look like in that setting, etc. Two jhevona main characters in a city full of elves and the in-world politics of that, class war and royals, pretentious scholar communities and how they'd operate, actual magic combat between two advanced magic users and what that would look like (mixing illusions or higher level spells with minor brute force tactics, evasion, enchantments, shapeshifting, etc.) etc. etc. ).
Organized some of my plants, but still need to replant some fully. Succulents grow SO fast, I think I'll run out of room. Also one has burnt to a crisp during the heat wave last week.. my son.. ToT.
Edited a few costume photos then gave up because my camera is evil and I always have that thing where it looks really cool in the mirror but then the final photos suck, which demotivates me to even do anything with them/feels like a waste.
Still chronic health issue sick stinky as usual, plus it's still warm inside from the heat a few days ago so being hot makes joint pain worse... evil.. no energy. fell asleep on the floor for like 30 minutes.
Tried a new oreo flavor and ranked it on my comprehensive oreo ranking list. Mediocre as usual, but I'm too far in to give up now gghj.. I have to just try them all. A fool's labor.
Notable sights: found one 6 leaf clover, two 5 leaf clovers, and eleven 4 leaf clovers. Saw a rabbit, 3 cats in windows, and 4 ducks. Also at some point I was squishing gum in my hand and pulling it apart and when stretched out it would make these really cool spindly spider web patterns. The sky later in the day was hazy pink, purple, and blue pastel sunset.
Goals moving forward: Wake up on time even if I feel sick when I wake up!!! Focus on more immediate projects, don't get distracted. Actually make room for investing in social time and replying to people even with minimal energy reserves. Stay consistent with physical therapy exercises. Plant nasturtiums. Finish and upload videos, email doctors, edit pictures, post the poll adventure thing that has been sitting in a draft for weeks.
Notable foods: None today, but I have asparagus for later which is exciting... my new favorite vegetable whilst on the stinky Nutritionist Prescribed Special Limited Diet
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Raederle as Eowyn not wanting her fate, Raederle as Cassandra not being heard, Raederle as Ophelia red hair and water and Knowing Knowing Knowing but also Raederle as Hamlet with a skull as her prop, Raederle as Pandora with a box full of secrets, Raederle as a wraith just as much as the ones she calls from the ground or the one trapped in a tower, Raederle as a flame and Raederle as seafoam, Raederle with wind in her wings following a sound of a harp, Raederle as the bearer of the Star-Bearer and the Sam to his Frodo, Raederle as a narrative device and Raederle as a person, Raederle as Peven's ghost, Raederle as the Unicorn searching in seafoam; Raederle as all who have come before her and those who will come after, but most of all, Raederle as herself
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!! female reader; dirty talking; breeding kink; slight overstim play; unrealistic sex x’>
thinking about how simon’s the type to keep saying filth to you when he’s balls deep. how, in the throes of his pleasure, so pussy-drunk, simon begins to wax poetry about the way you make him feel.
he’s got you folded in a mating press, his lips ghosting wet kisses along your trembling legs. “god, baby,” simon murmurs, his voice a drunken slur. “i need t’wife you up, i swear.” he punctuates this with a thrust, before his fingers pinch your clit.
you choke at the feeling, your legs kicking from where they’re slung over simon’s shoulders. your head thrashes against the pillow, not knowing how else to tether yourself from the stinging pleasure, your mouth falling open uselessly as garbled moans spill out.
“oh this,” he says, distracted by your reaction. “cute little thing, isn’t it?” he looks at your pussy almost with a starry-eyed gaze.
jesus-
“shu-ut up, si!” your voice breaks, weakened from the moans, but simon’s already looking too far gone, his eyes blown wide and his face flushed because of his pleasure.
“y’just squeezed me tighter, baby.” simon rips his eyes from your cunt to look at you with a sort of giddy trance. “y’like it when i play with–” he circles his thumb on your clit, making you squeal. “this? yeah? oh, lovie, you’re gushing.”
he pulls out, torturously slow, teasing, then he’s slamming back in. your ears ring at the resounding wet slide, his pelvis meeting your own with a goddamn squelch, and you scream, clawing at his back at the sharp pleasure that razes through you.
“going t’stuff you w’my cum everyday, baby.” simon giggles. “going t’make you so full.”
he nuzzles his nose on the side of your tear-soaked cheek. “y’want that, yeah? want t’feel sore because of how much cum’s stored in you? want t’be fucked until it takes?”
what-
“si! si!” you cry, mushy mind trying to understand what he’s insinuating. “wha- wh-…?”
“oh but you’d be so gorgeous, baby,” simon groans, his hand leaving your oversensitive clit to hike up along your body, dancing past your groin to plant just below your belly button. simon nuzzles close again, tracing the shell of your ear with his lips, then, “you’d be so pretty carrying my kids.”
those words make your body lock up, something in your mind just shifting right, and then you’re cumming, squirting all over simon’s cock and spraying on his legs.
simon outright moans, pulling back just enough to slot his lips against yours. you couldn’t even kiss him back, still so busy cumming, all cross-eyed at the intensity of your orgasm. it doesn’t matter to him, anyway, not when simon begins pistoning harder. faster. rougher.
every drag of his cock back in your pussy pushes more gushing squirt from you, and simon rumbles with a pleased groan, looking so blissed out as he leaves open-mouthed kisses along your jaw. you dig your nails at his back but simon doesn’t even register the prickling pain, too busy chasing his own orgasm through your cunt.
“s’right,” he coos. “nothin’ else could make me cum, baby. nothin’ else but y’r pretty pussy. y’r tight pussy. god, it’s such a delicious pussy, baby, how am i so lucky to have you, huh?” his words mingle with the thwap-thwap-thwap sounds of his body slamming against your own. it makes you dizzy with pleasure, ragged rasps of breath is all that is passing through your parted lips.
simon croons. “how’d i chance luck and end up w’such a delight?” another wet sound from your pussy rings amidst his words. “mmm, hear that baby?”
you nod, you think. or you moan a reply. honestly, you don’t even know, not with how dizzy you are at the peaking pleasure because there’s no way you’re cumming again–
“that’s the sounds that a happy wife makes,” simon purrs, replying to his own question, and the weight of his words washes over you like the pleasure that’s racing across your synapses. “that’s the sound that someone makes when they want to be bred.”
“simo-nnnnn!” you scream, the sound guttural and ragged, and your eyes can no longer see anything, and your ears are ringing, and- and–
simon laughs, the sound curling into something so, so fond. “y’r so pretty when y’cum, baby.” he kisses your wet cheek. “one more? f’r me?”
fuck-
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